


Starburst

by clearascountryair



Series: Tumblr Drabbles [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 20:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearascountryair/pseuds/clearascountryair
Summary: [post 4x03 coda challenge]  Her eyes burn with tears and she still feels like she might vomit.  It takes every ounce of strength she has not to scream.  Were it not for that, Jemma may have allowed him to sleep a little longer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first non-sarcastic smut  
> Shout out to Casey for beta-ing and giving me the first draft title of "'EVERYTHING HURTS AND IM DYING' - Casey"

Her eyes burn with tears and she still feels like she might vomit.  It takes every ounce of strength she has not to scream.  Were it not for that, Jemma may have allowed him to sleep a little longer.

It’s past four in the morning when she makes it back to the Playground, certain that May is in good hands.  The bedside lamp is on when she walks in their room, a little sign that he had tried so hard to wait up for her.  But Fitz is fast asleep, his head tilted so that his face is pressed into her pillow.  He looks so peaceful, despite all that is going on.  She should let him sleep.

But her body shrieks to be held and she unceremoniously drops her clothes on the ground, looking wistfully at where last night’s pajamas are folded over the chair.

It seems like too much effort.

She slips under the covers, immediately combining their spaces.  Half awake, he tilts his head to allow her to further bury her face in his neck.  She tries, for a moment, to be content in his arms.

But she’s hot and cold and she _killed May and brought her back_ and her heart is threatening to break through her ribs, her brain through her skull, her insides splattered all around them dead _deaddead._

She swallows the scream that’s contracting her insides while simultaneously pushing her skin away from her bones.  She wraps her arms around him and says, calmly as she can, “I need you to wake up.  Please.”

She says it not calmly enough and his eyes open wide.  He doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t need to.  They spoke on the phone, he knows what happened, the basics of it at least.  Jemma _killed May and brought her back_.  So he rolls over to cover her body with his and she could drown in him.  He peppers her face with kisses, rough and gentle reminders that the world didn’t end, that no one died and she pulls his t-shirt over his head and works to push his sweats down his legs.

“Jemma.”

Her eyes lock with his and she hears an embarrassingly desperate, “please,” fall from her lips.  And then there’s nothing more she can say because he’s sucking her lower lip between her own, gently at first and then not.  She grabs one of his hands from where it’s tangled in her hair and brings it between them, pressing her breast into his palm, her breath hitching as his thumb brushes over her nipple.

“Fitz,” she whines as his mouth leaves her own, but any further complaint is caught in her throat as he begins to press opened-mouth kisses to her breast, sucking lightly on each before kissing his way down her stomach, sliding his hands down her side to grab her ass.  He bites down on the inside of thigh.

“Please.”

He lifts one of her legs, hooking it around his shoulders, and she savors the conflict between hot and cold as she feels his breath against her wetness.  Painfully slowly, he slides a finger through her folds, and she can feel his smile when she gasps as he brushes her clit.

“Fitz!”

He laughs, circling her clit with his thumb as he slowly pushes two fingers inside of her.  “Use your words,” he says teasingly, and then, less so, “Tell me what you want.”

She grabs one of her breasts with one hand, squeezing her nipple between her thumb and forefinger, as the other hand reaches down to his hair.  

“Your mouth,” she gasps, her lips involuntarily bucking as he curls the fingers inside her.  She repeats her demand.

He slips his fingers out from inside her and, for a moment, she could cry at the emptiness.  But then he’s parting her with his forefinger and middle finger and she cries out (thank god for thick walls) as he circles her clit with his tongue.  His mouth is hot and his tongue heavy and she can’t stop the scream that tears through her as he thrusts his fingers back inside her heat.  She can do nothing but choke out his name, sobbing it one moment and whispering it the next, his body and presence a perpetual comfort.

She’s only vaguely aware of the hand that had been holding her hip slipping down between them, between his own legs, but she feels the increased pace and the groan against her as he takes himself in his hand.  She tangles her fingers impossibly deeper in his hair, her other hand traveling down to join, pulling his hair and begging him to never stop.  For just a moment, she raises her head, tugging on his hair so that, in that same moment, he looks up at her.  

She wants to say something, anything more than his name, and “I love you” burst from her mouth and, though she’s told him a hundred thousand times (when she woke, when she slept, when they made love or fucked), but she hopes it’s enough as she spasms around him, coming with an inarticulate scream.

Again, her heart feels as though it might break free of her, but then it calms, as though the reminder of its cause to beat allows it to pull her back in and hold her together.  Flesh, blood, and bone, for a moment, in peace.

She shuts her eyes as he kisses his way back up her stomach, ghosting over her breast, before he settles his head on the pillow beside hers.  Smiling, she reaches down, but he grabs her wrists.

“It’s okay,” he says hoarsely.  “I...I’m good.”

She turns, opening her eyes to smile at him.  “You know, I used to think I would like nothing more than you going down on me.  But you getting yourself off while going down on me _might_ be better.”

He kisses her cheek.  “It was my pleasure.”  They both giggle for a moment before he asks, “Are you okay?”

“I’m better,” she says.  “I will be.”

“Good.”

She curls into him, basking in her momentary contentment.

“Jemma?”

“Hmm?”

“We should move in together.”

She laughs.  “Where have I been living the past four months, then?”

He squeezes her.  “We should move in together away.  We...we don’t have to live in secret anymore.”

She freezes.  In the terror and excitement of her day, she hadn’t even appreciated to the true significance of the Director’s press conference.  She had been so focused on May’s coming back into life that she had missed the return of her own existence.

Fitz seemed, though, to understand her silence not as hesitation, but as awe and as hope and as a thousand other _good_ feelings she had forgotten she could have.

“Anyway,” he said, running a hand down her back to cup her ass, “I don’t think the walls here are as thick as you think they are.”

And she can’t even bring herself to scold him.  “We could have a breakfast nook,” she says instead, “and a window.”

He smiles, capturing her lips with his and allowing them a few moments of lazy kissing before sleep took over and life restarted.

“We can have anything you want,” he whispers.

But, in that moment, all she can think of is a breakfast nook, a window, and him.


End file.
